


Recuperation

by Reis_Asher



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Blindness, Computer Viruses, Established Relationship, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, One Shot, Oral Sex, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Penis In Vagina Sex, Sickfic, Temporary Blindness, Trans Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26249410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: Connor temporarily loses his sight due to a computer virus. Hank's worried he'll never get it back, despite reassurances to the contrary. The experience tests their patience and self-control.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Kudos: 124





	Recuperation

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: trans Connor, terms used are slit, dick, and hole. Connor is blind (temporarily). References to past alcoholism on Hank's part.

Connor placed his hands on the familiar landscape of Hank's body. He knew every hill and valley by heart. He buried his face in Hank's gut, feeling a million strands of course body hair brushing his cheeks. His sensors lit up like a Christmas tree, and he wondered if he might be content to lie in this sea of input for an eternity, the noise of data drowning out the black silence behind his eyes.

"You sure you're all right?" Hank's familiar smoky baritone anchored Connor to a safe pier, preventing him from getting lost in the darkness.

"The technician assured me that I will make a full recovery in a maximum of twenty-four hours. I may even regain my vision sooner, depending on how fast the antivirus program purges the viral code from my system."

Thick fingers tangled in his hair, and Connor suspected the touch was as much for Hank's comfort as his own. "What if they're wrong, though? What if your sight never comes back?" Connor could hear the labored sigh rattling its way out of Hank's ribcage before he even let it go. He couldn't help be comforted by Hank's stress, in a strange way. He didn't enjoy watching his husband worry, but his concern was proof of love. Here, in the darkness, with no cases to consider and no other earthly concerns, there was just the two of them in their own little world.

Connor almost wished his sight would stay gone a little longer. It was peaceful here. His other senses had sharpened with the loss of his sight, his processors rerouting the unused system overhead to boost his sense of smell, touch, and hearing.

He could hear the rush of Hank's blood through his veins and arteries like a river. His heart, pounding at the core of him, pulse slightly elevated from stress. The scent of fresh sweat and old-man aftershave. It was all familiar and safe, a far cry from the stench of death and decay they dealt with on a daily basis as homicide detective. Hank was alive, his systems working in harmony to continue powering his body, and Connor was so glad for that he could have cried.

Connor wasn't sure if he felt Hank's cock stiffen or if he smelled his arousal first, but he adjusted his position so he could take Hank in hand and lazily stroke him.

"Connor, no, you're sick," Hank protested. "I don't even know what set me off. Probably my proximity to you. That doesn't mean you have to do anythin' about it." He said it in a voice that would have convinced a layman, but Connor was an expert in all things Hank Anderson and he could detect a half-truth when one was fired across his bow like a warning shot. He didn't need the alert. He was quite happy to make love to Hank no matter the circumstances.

"My other senses are heightened." Connor slid up Hank's body and put his head down on the pillow next to Hank's. He used his lips to scout out the location of Hank's ear and whispered into the shell of it. "Without the distraction of sight, the experience of sex could be vastly more pleasurable."

Hank's sharp intake of breath signaled his interest. He rolled on top of Connor, pinning him down with his weight, and Connor was reminded how huge Hank was in all aspects. He could overpower him in a heartbeat, but it was pleasant sometimes to imagine himself helpless beneath Hank, forced into submission by his husband's larger frame. He threw his head back, exposing his throat, and Hank took the bait, sucking hard enough on Connor's gel skin to leave white marks where his chassis was exposed. He chose to leave them there instead of redistributing his skin immediately, allowing himself to be marked for as long as he was in this sanctuary with Hank.

Hank ground his cock against Connor's wet slit, teasing him with the shape and size of it. Connor lifted his hips to urge Hank forward, but Hank was quite disciplined when it came to self-control, years of experience in masking his suspicions in front of suspects working for him in the bedroom. His ragged breaths were a giveaway how far gone he was, though, and Connor emitted a whimper in response, desperate to seduce Hank into fucking him like this.

Hank slipped inside him like a hand fitting into a glove, Connor's hole so slick he barely offered any resistance. He could hear every grunt and groan as Hank fucked into him, the slap of skin against metal as Hank's balls hit his perineum in a steady rhythm, and still he wanted more. He shifted his hips up so Hank had to fuck down into him. Hank grabbed one of Connor's legs, emitting a labored grunt as he thrust inside for the final time. He managed a strangled cry as he came, his weight bearing down on Connor as he filled him up.

His twitching stopped, the room taking on a thick aura of impenetrable silence. Connor jolted as Hank's thick thumb rubbed his dick, the rough skin of his thumb pad generating glorious friction on Connor's tiny penis. Connor spasmed and writhed against the huge, softening cock still buried deep inside him, squeezing every drop out of Hank as Hank sped up his motions. It was good—close to being too good—and yet it was perfect. He knew if he could see, Hank's eyes would be focused on Connor like he was the center of the universe, all the man's attention devoted to Connor's facial expressions in an effort to read him. Instead, he could only hear Hank's labored breathing as he bordered on overstimulation. In a moment of desperate cruelty, Connor resolved to delay his own orgasm in order to keep Hank trapped inside him for as long as possible, despite Hank's best efforts to get him off.

Just as he started to pull out, seemingly ready to surrender to the fact Connor wasn't going to come this way, Connor wrapped his legs around Hank's back, keeping them joined. He released the delay on his orgasm and came with a cry, clamping down on Hank's cock inside him with an orgasm that seemed to go on and on. Connor felt Hank's cock stiffen to full hardness inside him again, wondering at how that could even be possible at Hank's age.

Hank started to thrust slowly, desperate not to lose this game, and Connor realized they were really going to go again. He could almost feel the grimace on Hank's face even though he couldn't see it. The tiny whistle with each intake of air in air told Connor it was passing through the gap in Hank's front teeth. There was no way he had the stamina for this at fifty-three, and yet here they were, locked in a desperate struggle to bolster Hank's flagging ego.

Connor might have laughed, but he didn't want to ruin the moment. He could picture Hank's face, purpling with the effort, sweat pooling on his brow, and yet still he fucked his android husband, the lines on his face etched into concentration from the labor. His rhythm was slow and sloppy, but his thrusts were hard, forcing his cock into depths he'd never plumbed before. He pinched Connor's dick between his thumb and forefinger, rough skin creating a sweet friction that made Connor arch his back. Connor wouldn't last like this, but he would see to it that Hank came a second time inside him, spending a desperate, impossible load against all odds.

Hank sped up. Connor could hear his gasps, but he showed no sign of relenting. The stimulation of being pounded while Hank rubbed his dick was too much, and he came again, crying out as he spasmed on Hank's huge cock.

Hank's cry sounded almost pained as he fell over the edge, emptying what little he had left into Connor before immediately pulling out. Connor felt semen drip down his legs and he pushed some out. Hank's thick finger pushed it back in, and Connor could hear him lick his lips. He was smiling, no doubt, a bone-deep satisfied grin spread across his face at a job well done. He didn't need sight to know Hank, to anticipate the reactions of a man who shared his whole life.

Or perhaps he did. Two thick fingers probed him, Hank's thumb teasing his dick. Connor's only response was a sharp intake of simulated breath, air going into his chest cavity and serving no meaningful purpose except to signal his response.

"You're not going to win, Connor," Hank growled.

"I think we both win, here."

Hank chuckled, but said no more. He concentrated on Connor's pleasure, teasing his dick while he fucked Connor's hole with his fingers. They could be at this all night. Connor didn't tire. It was usually Hank who gave in to human limitations and retired after sex, usually falling into a satisfied slumber. But not tonight. There was something else driving him to make the most of this moment—a nervous energy about Connor's condition, perhaps.

Connor had never been less afraid. The sensory input flooding his systems told him he would be all right if he never saw again. Hank would be his guide, leading him to the greatest heights the world had to offer.

Hank slid a third finger inside, and his knuckles brushed Connor's sensors as his thumb continued to tease. He stopped, and Connor felt his absence, writhing against Hank as he forgot what words were. Hank's tongue met Connor's dick, swirling around like Hank was licking an ice cream cone.

Connor screamed as he came. Hank didn't stop licking, didn't stop putting almost his entire fist in Connor's hole—if anything, he sped up his motions. Connor was out of control, his whole body spasming and acting of its own accord.

Hank finally withdrew. The bed shifted and Connor found himself encircled by Hank's arm.

"You all right, Connor?" Hank's whisper was so soft and tender, a complete contrast to the almost violent orgasm that had just hit Connor.

"Yes, Hank, I'm—" Connor opened his eyes, and he could make out the shape of the bedside table. Finer details came into view, like the wood grain, and the picture of Hank and him on their wedding day. He rolled over quickly, taking in Hank while he wasn't aware Connor could see. The man was a wreck, sweat-soaked and flushed, redder than a fresh-cooked crab. "I can see."

Surprise dawned on Hank's features, and his mouth twisted into a broad, genuine smile. "Thank God. Though I doubt I'm much to look at right now."

"You're the most handsome man I've ever laid eyes upon."

Hank rolled his eyes. "I need a shower." He rested a hand on Connor's cheek, and leaned in close to press a kiss to his forehead. He left some of his sweat behind. Connor smiled as Hank rolled off the bed and ambled into the bathroom.

Connor wiped his forehead and licked the salty sweat from the back of his hand, breaking it down into its component parts. Not a trace of alcohol to be found, despite Hank's worry over his virus. Rehab really was sticking for good this time, and pride surged through him at that knowledge.

Hank came charging back in. He scooped up his wet towel off the floor. "Sorry, I forgot I left this here." He glanced at Connor suspiciously. "What's that shit-eatin' grin about?"

"Nothing," Connor said. Hank turned his back and walked towards the door. "Hank."

"Yeah?" Hank turned, gazing at Connor as if he was seeing a rare and precious beauty for the first time.

"I'm proud of you," Connor blurted out.

"Pro—oh." Hank nodded. "Won't say I wasn't tempted, but—yeah." Hank clutched the towel tightly in his hands. "I guess we both recovered from a serious illness, huh?"

"I love you, Hank."

"I love you, too, Connor." Hank turned his back one more time. "You sure your senses were heightened? I stink. I wouldn't have sex with me like this… sheesh. Androids are weird." Connor heard the bathroom door close and he folded his hands over his thirium pump, satisfied in the knowledge that everything was going to be all right.


End file.
